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That was all I could think of even as I sat there trying to figure out how to get my body untangled from the mangled wreck that was my car.
What the hell had I even hit?
It was all a bit of a blur.
And the impact of the airbag must have knocked me out for a couple of seconds, because my brain felt weird and foggy.
I remembered driving back from the meeting Emilio had sent me on. And traffic being a nightmare. Because it always was.
Then… nothing.
Not until I woke up, that is.
“If I have to spend another fucking week on Salvatore’s fucking couch, I swear to God…” I mumbled to myself as I felt around for my seatbelt clip and pushed the button to disengage it.
My head was hammering, and there was a trickle of blood sliding down my arm.
I didn’t bother to look.
If it was a bone sticking out, it would only psych me out. If it was a piece of glass embedded in my skin, I knew better than to pull it out without someone medical nearby.
So I just ignored the pain as I attempted to pull my legs out from under the steering wheel, finding the foot compartment crushed to a third its usual size.
“Oh, motherfucker,” I hissed as my ankle let out a scream of objection as I started to try to pull it free.
At best, that was a strain.
At worst, I was looking at crutches and a cast.
Maybe my ma was right. I needed to get my sinful ass to church more, get right with the Lord, figure out why he’s got such a damned grudge against me.
For fuck’s sake, Brio sliced peoples’ ears off and he wasn’t constantly getting injured.
Suddenly, there was a frantic tapping on the window at my side, catching me off-guard, making me jerk.
“Hey! Hey, are you okay in there?” a honey-sweet voice called. “I’m on the phone with the police. The ambulance is on its way, okay? Can you hear me? I don’t know. He looks pretty rough,” she went on, clearly talking to the 911 operator. “Yeah, he looks like he hit his head on something. Hey, sir! Sir, are you hurt anywhere else?”
“My foot,” I said when I remembered to speak. “I can’t get it out.”
“He said he can’t get his foot out. Okay. Hey! The lady said to stop trying. Leave it where it is. The cops or firemen or whoever will come in and get you out, okay? Just sit tight. No. No. I don’t see any other car around,” she said, turning her attention back to the operator.
There wasn’t another car?
How was that possible?
There was no way, no fucking way, I’d crashed into a parked car or some shit like that.
I was a damn good driver.
Never an accident.
Never even a near-miss, not even in the crazy city traffic.
“Um, yeah, you know what,” I heard her say as she looked toward the front of the car. “Yeah. There’s paint like there was another car. Maybe it was a hit-and-run?”
Hit-and-run?
Yeah.
